


Constants

by forthreaching



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:02:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthreaching/pseuds/forthreaching
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four pilots go down to the bottom of the Pacific. Two pods come up.</p><p>It’s not always Mako and Raleigh in them.</p><p>-</p><p>The one where all the wrong people die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constants

Here’s a constant: four pilots go down to the bottom of the Pacific. Two pods come up.

Here’s the tricky part: it’s not always the ones with a future.

 

 

Some things change, but most of everything stays the same. Reporters will ask _what are you going to do now?_ and the flash of cameras will still be too bright. Private contractors will start sending baskets of liquor and rationed delicacies and, on some occasions, men and women to hotel rooms. Politicians will climb over themselves to pin a medal on a lapel of anybody involved in the attack. People will celebrate on the streets. Monuments will go up and speeches will be read. Parts of Sacramento and Manila will still be uninhabitable. The shiny façade of unity will wear off. Soon enough, the PPDC will seem like a paranoid anachronism in the face of peace.

Because that’s the truth in every universe. Two Jaegers go down, the Breach is closed, and everything else can be swept under _Peace_ and _Sacrifice_.

What does it matter to people who died?

Mako Mori was a no-name rookie and Raleigh Becket was a washed up pilot. Isn’t it more impressive that Marshal Pentecost strapped in the Conn-Pod one more time with Chuck Hansen, the youngest pilot with the highest kill count in PPDC history?

People are calling it a late Christmas miracle, because, well, peace on Earth and mercy mild, god and sinners reconciled.

 

 

The news travels fast. _The Breach is closed. An address is to be held at the Hong Kong Shatterdome._

During the first press conference, Chuck Hansen stands by his father on a podium. Herc Hansen delivers the address with an arm in a sling. Stacker Pentecost is not there. It’s a preliminary kind of thing. Nothing but facts.

_On 12 January 2025, the Breach opened for what was assumed to be a double event, releasing two Category IV kaiju, codenames Raiju and Scunner. The two remaining Jaegers after the attack on Hong Kong, Striker Eureka and Gipsy Danger, were deployed as part of what is to be known as Operation Pitfall. The PPDC has been anticipating this attack and developed Operation Pitfall as a response. Marshal Stacker Pentecost and Ranger Chuck Hansen piloted Striker Eureka, while Ranger Raleigh Becket and Ranger Mako Mori piloted Gipsy Danger. Striker Eureka was to carry thermonuclear bombs to the Breach in hopes of closing it. What was perceived to be a double event became a triple event with the rise of the first Category V kaiju, codename Slattern._

Chuck’s done this before. Exactly like this. Standing next to his father after an attack, giving reporters enough to keep them at bay. After this, it’s usually the morning shows then the late night circuit with hotel room interviews in between. Chuck had liked it well enough.

_In the process of the operation, we suffered casualties and lost Gipsy Danger and her pilots, Ranger Becket and Ranger Mori. Marshal Pentecost is currently recovering. Until then, I will be the acting Marshal of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. We won’t be taking questions at the moment, but a written statement will be released with more details._

By the time the reporters disperse, Chuck’s shuffled back to the Med Bay for follow-ups. The technician tells him, “You’re good. Everything’s fine.”

That’s the problem, isn’t it? Chuck’s not sure what to do with _everything’s fine._

 

 

Most of everything stays the same.

Striker Eureka detonates the payload and Gipsy Danger’s an arm and a leg down but still slices Raiju down the middle.

When the blowback hits them, Gipsy Danger uses her sword to hold fast.

The blast kills Scunner but leaves Slattern, wounded, but alive. Gipsy Danger pushes her sword through the kaiju, killing it and uses the corpse as a key to the door leading to another universe.

The reactor override needs to be manually activated. She self-destructs and closes the Breach.

 

 

Some things change.

It seems insignificant, a matter of minutes and seconds, but they are people who live by a clock.

Striker Eureka detonates the payload earlier, which means the deployment mechanism isn’t damaged. When the blowback hits them, Gipsy Danger uses her sword to hold fast.

Gieszler and Gottlieb’s helicopter is delayed by the storm. By the time they get to LOCCENT, Striker Eureka has ejected both pilots to the surface, green dye circling them. They deployed the bombs when the Breach opened for a third kaiju. There is no confusion about when to press the button. Things go as planned. The blast kills Scunner but leaves Slattern, wounded, but alive.

When it becomes clear that the Breach is still opened, Geiszler and Gottlieb finally barrel through. _You’re gonna have to fool the Breach into thinking you have the same code._

Thirty-five thousand feet above, there are two pods floating on the Pacific. Stacker and Chuck are in various stages of awareness, but more or less conscious. They still have a line to LOCCENT and Gipsy. They hear everything. It’s Raleigh that reminds everyone that they’re nuclear. It’s Mako that tells Stacker, “I can finish this.”

Without Striker to do any initial damage to it, Slattern’s attacks are a little bit more vicious, a little bit more precise and the escape pods are damaged. Gipsy Danger pushes her sword through the kaiju, killing it and uses the corpse as a key to the door leading to another universe. The reactor override needs to be manually activated. She self-destructs and closes the Breach.

 

 

It’s almost a week after the Breach is closed when Stacker wakes up.

Herc has set up shop on an empty bed next to him, papers and folders slowly stacking up. He has his feet on the bed, reading glasses on, and an arm in a cast.

“They let you pilot a Jaeger with those eyes?”

Herc looks up at him, fear and exhaustion in his eyes. He swings his legs down and pulls his glasses off. “You’re the one signing off on this shit.”

He walks over to Stacker’s bed, dragging his chair with him.

"Been watching me sleep?”

Herc snorts, “Fuck no, been waiting for you to wake up to sort this mess out. How the hell do I file a 990 on the fact that we’ve been supplementing our funding with an arms deal with the Russians and giving access to kaiju parts to the head of the Hong Kong black market?”

“Put it under miscellaneous.”

Herc runs his good hand over his face, “You good?”

“No. Probably not.”

“Thank you.”

Stacker looks at him and nods. Then, Herc says, “I’m sorry.”

Stacker tugs at the IV drip on the back of his hand and nods again. He doesn’t say, _It should’ve been me_. It would’ve been cruel to. The other half of that sentence is, _and your son._

 

 

Here’s another constant:

The last time Mako Mori calls Stacker Pentecost Sensei is the first time she’s done so since entering the Jaeger Academy.

The last thing Mako will always say to Stacker is, “ _Sensei_ , _aishite imasu_.”

 

 

There are rumblings for a statue in dedication to Mako and Raleigh and Gipsy Danger. Stacker makes sure to squash it as efficiently and quickly as possible. It’s preposterous and extravagant and when a politician angling for a photo-op suggests it with a live mic on, Stacker looks down on him from the podium and reminds him of the number of displaced citizens that would appreciate the money.

He imagines Mako’s face at the suggestion, the slow mortification that would spread on her face, starting with a small pull of her cheek – somewhere between the start of a sneer and a grimace. He’s sure she got that from Tamsin. The subtle dig at your stupidity, caught between pitying you and dismissing you. Tamsin would’ve loved it.

He doesn’t need to talk to the doctors to know he’s dying. He’s _been_ dying for a while now, getting back into a Jaeger couldn’t have helped. For the first time, in a long time, looking ahead sounds exhausting and not worth the fight.

When he coughs blood for the third time in an hour, he lets himself think that maybe it’s better this way. Maybe this is the only way it should be. This way, one less person has to watch him die.

 

 

Chuck will always say to Raleigh, “ _I wanna come back from this mission. I quite like my life_.”

He’s not always right.

 

 

The Hong Kong Shatterdome’s running on a skeleton crew, with non-vital members either taking leave to see their families or splitting for more lucrative job offers. No one blames them. Funding is running out and if politicians needed more of a reason to close the Jaeger Program then the closing of the Breach was it.

The Mess is mostly empty. Only a handful of the tables are set up, with most of them folded to the side. The rest of the crew gives Chuck wide berth, leaving him half a table to himself. He’s surrounded by press guidelines, a list of cleared information, appropriate answers, and main talking points which boiled down to funding, the continued cooperation between nations, funding, the joint efforts of all the Jaeger pilots, and _for God’s sake, Hansen, the funding_.

His father finds him like this: knee deep in constructing a narrative that he can tell to talk show hosts and reporters with a dog begging for attention sitting on his feet.

When Herc offers his hand to Max, the dog trots to the other man, whining lowly and lets his head be scratched.

“When’d Max eat last?”

Chuck looks up, confusion on his face, “What’s that?”

 Herc keeps scratching at the dog’s head, “Max. When’d you feed him?”

Chuck looks at Max, surprised he’s there. Then he looks at the table, off to the side, his breakfast a congealed cold glob of eggs and coffee, the cream having risen to the top. He’s pretty sure he took some toast too and has the crumbs on several folders to prove it, but he doesn’t remember eating it. “Gave him some bread.”

“And you?”

Chuck tips his head to his plate, “Breakfast is right there.”

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

Chuck makes a frustrated noise, “Yeah? Great. I guess I have even less time to go through this report.”

Herc concentrates on the spot Max gets giddy for and scratches earnestly, “D’you need help?”

Chuck looks at the mess of papers in front of him. There was an order to it earlier, he swears. When he started, it made sense, “Nah. No. ‘M good.”

He hears his father sigh, “Are you?”

When Chuck continues on rearranging folders, Herc says, “You haven’t been checking in with Medical.”

Chuck snorts, keeping his eyes on the shifting paper under his hands, “Yeah? You telling me Stacker is?”

Max makes a whining noise again when Herc stops scratching, “Stacker’s not my son.”

Chuck looks up, his face a mix of frustration and fear, “I’m alive – aren’t I?”

 

 

Raleigh will always look at Mako and say, “ _I never really thought about the future. Until now. I never did have very good timing_.”

He’s not always wrong.

 

 

Chuck sits on a couch, three cameras pointed at him. He can see himself on the screens by the floor and, so far, he looks normal and relaxed. The lights are too bright and he’s sweating under his uniform and the pins on his lapel feel foreign and heavy. The host of the show fills in the moments when his jokes fall flat, the audience laughing on cue.

The man leans in and Chuck braces himself. He knows what’s coming and it shakes him every time, “So, what’s next for our heroes?”

 

 

Four pilots go down to the bottom of the Pacific. Two pods come up.

That’s the truth in every universe.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, man. This scenario wouldn't leave my head so now here it is. 
> 
> Hit me [up](http://borncareful.tumblr.com/) for tears.


End file.
